


Hourglass

by justintrudeaucalendar



Series: What We Leave Behind [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Death, Drinking to Cope, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Spock (Star Trek), Emotionally Hurt Spock (Star Trek), Grief/Mourning, Grieving Spock (Star Trek), Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, but instead of drinking its eating chocolate, the timeline is kinda all over the place
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:14:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22414591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justintrudeaucalendar/pseuds/justintrudeaucalendar
Summary: There was something in the air. The morning fog suffocated the city as it crept up hills and down the empty streets. Every billboard screen, every PADD, every person bore the loss. It sat as an untouchable truth upon every last headline.James Kirk was dead.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Series: What We Leave Behind [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1613119
Comments: 3
Kudos: 32





	1. Turn the Hourglass

**Author's Note:**

> this story is named for the song Hourglass by Sleeping at Last, i highly recommend giving it a listen! (or just listen to all of sleeping at last's music, honestly it's all so good)  
>   
> also! for a bit of background here, over this past summer i posted a little angst oneshot titled Are You With Me?  
> Hourglass is set in the aftermath of that work, if you haven't read it this will probably still read okay as a stand alone, but there will be some references (more in the first chapter) to what i've already written which is meant to enhance the reading experience.

It felt impossible that this headline could cross his desk. 

This kid was the one whose very birth defied death, who fought tooth and nail regardless of odds and always came out on top. Yet, the words were written in every Federation language, from tall thin letters all standing at perfect attention, to scripts which rose and fell as Jim’s chest once had.  
How had the Federation’s luckiest Captain met such a damned end? And how could he possibly make a statement as his superior officer? Words were beyond him. 

He had pulled Jim out of a drunken brawl in a grimy dive in the middle of farmland and dared him to be better. He had watched him suffer and learn hard lessons and watched those lessons build upon the potential of a strong student and an even stronger man. 

He lived to grow old with his wife because of Jim. He’d lived to pass down his command to him with the smile of what he could only compare to a proud father. It was Pike that Spock had approached to inform him of his intent to marry Jim. Any time Jim found himself overwhelmed, overworked or dreading another day of captaincy, he’d turn to him. Pike came to carry the fact that Jim confided in him with pride. He was overjoyed to be the one Jim would ask for advice, be it via comms or on leave. Being there for Jim felt rewarding even if he usually took away more free food than life lessons from their shared meals. 

Christopher had never asked for, or even thought of having a son, but when he was the first person Jim called when he couldn’t figure out how to build a flat packed bookshelf, everything fell into place. There were countless dinner parties, birthdays and holidays together, until what had started as a formality became a family. Somehow, Jim found a regular place at Pike’s table, a toothbrush in his home, and a special place in his heart. And Jim showed Pike a love he had never considered he was missing. 

And now, Starfleet’s announcement that a Captain, not a good man, not a son or a husband, was killed in action sat on his desk.

And he had never felt so empty.

-

Never had he associated the word heartbroken with any aspect of his life. Losing his parents had been tragic, but expected because of their lingering illness and old age. His divorce had left him more betrayed than heartbroken. The custody battle for Joanna had been crushing, but he had expected to lose all custody and walked out of the courthouse with partial, so it was a bittersweet victory rather than a heartbreaking loss.

Losing Jim was the closest Leonard had ever come to heartbreak. 

That morning, they had eaten breakfast together as they usually do. Jim had gotten waffles, because it was a Thursday and Jim insisted that waffles were a Thursday food, Leonard had called him a child and got his usual black coffee and a bowl of fruit. Now, he looked back and had never so desperately wished to have cherished a meal. He wished he got waffles like Jim insisted. He should have talked more, and drank his coffee earlier so he would remember more of that morning. 

But he hadn’t, he grumbled in response to Jim’s chatter as usual, and eventually catching onto Jim’s train of thought, he’d taken part in some banter, but it was all typical. It was planning the next shore leave rotation for the crew, the reaction of the Admirals at the mention of Scotty’s next upgrade idea, and what adjustments needed to be made to the Gamma shift staffing. 

It was mundane, borderline shop talk, and it was the last damn conversation he ever had with Jim.

What Leonard would have given to have been on the bridge, the full view of the vacuum of space be damned, when the evacuation protocols were initiated.  
But he had an obligation to help and to protect life, an obligation to save the crew which Jim held so close to his heart. An obligation which applied to the eleven patients in his sickbay who couldn’t evacuate themselves. With a third of medical staff on shore leave, he couldn’t afford a trip to the bridge at the expense of his patients so he choked back the tightness in his throat and did what he could to save his crew.

Leonard could only hope Jim knew how much he loved him, and how deeply he cared for him. He could only hope that Jim breathed easier once he saw all the medical shuttles made a safe departure. He could only hope he had made the right call. These thoughts were meant to soothe the twisting in his gut and the buzzing in his ears, but they did little to slow the onset of heartbreak.

-

Sulu had seen his captain cry on countless occasions.   
Death of Jim’s crew guaranteed tears, never in the moment as he still had a ship to command, but at the end of a long shift where someone was lost, one could spot a few stray tears as he made the walk from the turbolift to his quarters. 

Even despite their prevalence, Jim’s tears of grief were far outnumbered by all the other times Jim cried. Jim was a very strong leader, and for every bit tough he was, he was equally emotional, and he had been for as long as Sulu had known him.  
He would cry laughing too hard at Scotty’s jokes, choking on his drink as the crew relaxed after a tense mission. He cried watching old holos when they had movie nights, either from a sad ending or a cheesy romance. He’d cried several times in the hours leading up to his wedding explaining, “I just love Spock so, so much,” and during the ceremony as he walked down the makeshift aisle, and again at the reception. 

The last time he saw Jim cry, he witnessed an absolute devastation he’d never seen in his friend, let alone his captain. 

He couldn’t look away as Jim cried tears meant to fall from laughing at terrible physics jokes Scotty had yet to tell. Tears reserved for sunsets on new planets they’d yet to visit, for the overwhelming cuteness of not-yet-discovered species, for the sight of newly formed galaxies. They were the tears meant to fall as Jim held his future children for the first time, tears that should have been shed with a smile on his wedding anniversaries for decades to come. 

These were the tears meant for his deathbed, spilling seventy years too soon.

Instead, they fell onto the sharp cut of Commander Spock’s uniform, as they held each other in an embrace that had to communicate a lifetime of love. Sulu wished he could have looked away, but he couldn’t tear his gaze from the desolate scene until the lift doors closed.


	2. A Grain of Sand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had been eight days. The crew was at their wits end as Spock continued to evade their calls.

Spock hadn’t left his and Jim’s apartment in eight days. Similarly, Spock hadn’t been sober in eight days.  
Everyday he’d woken to more requests from media outlets, begging for interviews or details of the life they’d built together, or worse, for details of Jim’s funeral.  
And for every press request there were twice as many comms from the crew of the Enterprise asking after him, offering condolences, comfort foods and company. 

After three days, Spock shut off his comm. He couldn’t stand the constant reminders, but the resulting silence of an empty home made for two did little to ease the tightness in his chest.

Spock only left his bedroom when he grew sober enough to recognize the empty space on the right side of the bed. Even then, he only went as far as the kitchen, where he’d have as many squares of chocolate as he could stand, then to the living room where he'd read and reread the books Jim had loved so dearly until he felt the chocolate's effect. Desperate to fill the aching lack of presence with any semblance of Jim's likeness, he'd read until he became too intoxicated to pick the words from those antique pages, and then he’d stumble off to bed again. 

For five days, the cycle went uninterrupted.

After a full day of absolute radio silence, without so much as a message marked read from Spock, the senior crew agreed someone needed to intervene. So, Uhura went to visit Spock. 

She spent 45 minutes knocking on his door, to no answer.  
The next day, Chekov went to try his luck, he only lasted 30 minutes before he started to cry.  
Disheartened by this, Sulu decided he would go try to draw Spock out, to no avail.  
Four days into Spock’s silence, Scotty and Keenser attempted to pay a visit, and were once again met with nothing from within the apartment.

It was on the fifth day that they regrouped and simultaneously agreed a greater intervention was needed. So they called upon Bones, asking him to come up from Georgia, where he’d been drowning his sorrows in quality time with his daughter and dark liquor, to see if he could get to Spock.  
McCoy, compelled by concern and fury that he hadn’t been called sooner, was in San Francisco by midday, armed with a medical kit and as Chekov insisted- a vegetarian casserole.

The sound of the doorbell pulled Spock out of light sleep. He lazily lifted his head, staring in the direction of the noise, before falling back against his pillows, set to ignore it as he had been for days.

Much to Spock’s misfortune, Leonard McCoy was nothing if not persistent. Six ridiculously drawn out hours of the doorbell buzzing came and went, and right at the seven hour mark, Spock caved. 

Leonard scrambled to his feet at the slide of the deadbolt. The door only opened a sliver.

“What.” The word was meant to sound biting, but fell flat. It was slurred, frail and tired, and judging by what little of Spock’s face was visible, he looked to be in a similar state.

“Brought you some food, Chekov insisted, and I’m here to check on you.” There was a beat of silence, Leonard waiting for the door to open fully, while Spock’s mind slowly pieced together a response.

“That’s unnessic-” The visible sliver of Spock’s brow furrowed. “Un-nessa-cary, I’m fine.”

McCoy stared, since when had Spock struggled to pronounce elementary school vocabulary words?

“Spock, are you drunk?”

“Well- intoxicated rather than... but not human or alcohol,” He drifted off, staring at something behind the door. McCoy cleared his throat and Spock’s eyes shifted back towards him as he ended his not-a-sentence with a resolving, “so… No.”

“Jesus Christ,” McCoy muttered, shifting gears from concerned friend to medical damage control. “Alright, it’s time to let me in.”

When Spock began to refuse, Leonard took advantage of Spock’s impaired condition, grabbing hold of the door and pushing his way in. 

The apartment that came into view looked nothing like what McCoy had remembered. The city below stayed hidden behind drawn curtains, the living room was in a state of disarray with books stacked haphazardly on every surface, a glass tipped on its side its contents long since spilled and evaporated, and in the dim lamp light of the living room, he could make out the silhouette of littered counters that had never been anything less than spotless.

Spock now slumped against the door frame, helpless to watch McCoy take in the darkness and mess. The doctor turned to face him, concern overtaking a pained expression. 

“Spock,” It was spoken so softly that McCoy couldn’t be sure if he had even managed to push past the tightness in his throat.

“I think that you should- that you have to leave,” Spock’s demeanor denied the words’ meaning. He was slumped against the wall, his gaze unfocused and skin abnormally pale.

“No, Spock. Look at this place, look at you,” Leonard shook his head as he gestured about angrily, “You’re in no shape to be left alone! You shouldn’t have been in the first place.”

His words settled heavily between them, as McCoy’s lingering frustration with the situation fizzled out and Spock wavered in place, his eyes shining.

“Hey,” the doctor started, gentler this time, “I’m sorry, it’s not your fault. I just, why did you disappear? We’re here for you Spock. We all miss him, I… I miss him too, Spock. But we can't just lock ourselves away. He wouldn't have wanted you to live like this.”

“There was nothing that I would not have done…” his voice broke, and Spock took a deep, shaky breath. “There will be nothing to fill his place.”

“I know, trust me I know, but you can’t keep doing this to yourself, man.”

Blinking away tears, McCoy turned to open the curtains, only to be met by a shockingly still strong grip around his arm. 

“Don’t.” 

“Spock, we need some light in here, why don’t you have a seat and I’ll-“ Bones stopped mid sentence as they made eye contact. There was a new source of rage hidden behind the exhausted grief he’d seen before.

Any conviction in Spock’s stare was lost by the frailty of his voice. “I don’t want your- I don’t need your, your pity, just get out-” 

“I’m not going anywhere, Spock. This isn’t pity. I love you just as much as I love- loved Jim, damn it. Now sit down,” he put a comforting hand on Spock’s shoulder, “Please.”

Spock held his gaze, and there was a tense moment where Leonard thought perhaps he was too late to get through to Spock. It felt like he was being sized up, and briefly he wondered if he was about to become the punching bag to a slightly intoxicated, very upset half Vulcan. Instinctively, he braced himself, taking his right foot back a step in case Spock swung. Spock stared at him with something akin to heartbreak or passionate rage in his eyes. McCoy took a deep breath.

And Spock folded, as if the weight of McCoy’s hand on his shoulder had crushed him, and fell back into the couch. The aggression had left his body and left in its place an all consuming sadness.

Relief flooded through Leonard as he turned to get his tricorder from his bag. If Spock had bodily refused help, he wasn’t sure what he would have done. Unlike Spock, he knew when he’d last eaten, or seen the light of day, but since they'd been home he’d polished off at least a handle of whisky by himself and he certainly wouldn’t have held his own. While he was in better shape than his patient at the moment, he wasn’t better off by much. 

He was beyond grateful that Spock had enough sense to stand down, because he wasn’t sure he could handle being an emotional surrogate for all of Spock’s misplaced anger. He’d always been just slightly less emotionally stunted than Jim and Spock, but that didn’t mean he knew how to talk someone through that sort of grief, the same grief he’d yet to fully process. He couldn’t have talked Spock down, he simply didn’t know how to. But he knew how to be a doctor. He knew how to be a friend.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! i'm really excited to be getting back into my creative groove and i've really missed writing!
> 
> in case you wondered what i’ve been up to in the 7 or 8 months i've been away- i've gotten my BLS/healthcare provider CPR instructor and EMT-B certifications, i’ve gotten through a semester of my last year of school before university, and am working part time in a bakery! my life is starting to settle down for a bit and i'm thrilled to be able to hopefully spend more time creating and posting here!
> 
> thank you for coming to my TED talk and may we meet again soon!  
> xoxo- eli


End file.
